


Pursuit of the Whole

by Port_in_a_Storm



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Character deaths - though not as you'd think, F/M, M/M, Romance, True Love, Witch Hunts, elderly, master and servant, soulmates through time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10052819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Port_in_a_Storm/pseuds/Port_in_a_Storm
Summary: “…this becoming one instead of two, was the very expression of his ancient need.And the reason is that human nature was originally one and we were a whole, and the desire and pursuit of the whole is called love.”Robert and Aaron find each other throughout time, though never in circumstances that it could ever stick.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I'm kind of nervous about this one, and waiting to hear what you think of it, as it's completely different to anything I've written before, but it's been on my computer for ages, so I thought I would add to it and get it posted. It - just by chance - fit in with the 'different worlds' prompt for Robron week! A quick note - the numbers before each new section indicate dates. Of course the language etc used is not historically accurate, but go along with it ;) 
> 
> Happy reading!

**899**

‘For someone who is to meet his bride on the morn, you do not appear happy, brother.’

Robert doesn’t look at his sister, but instead keeps his eyes trained on the garden which his window overlooks. ‘Because it is not a happy occasion,’ he replies. The crown lies heavy on his head. Had his older brother not been a bastard, it would be he to be married the next day. But he, golden-haired Robert was to have a golden haired bride. And there was nothing that he could do about it.

‘I should like to marry one day,’ Victoria says, and that is enough to make him smile. His little sister, so hopeful for the future. ‘Perhaps you will love her?’ And so naïve.

He shrugs. ‘Perhaps,’ he says. Because it is easier than having to argue with her.

The next day blooms sooner than Robert would have hoped. He is awoken by servants, coming to run his bath, and to dress him, and to get him ready for the day. He doesn’t usually do dramatics, but if it were his day of execution, he’d go to it more willingly than he will this. He has never met the woman he is to marry; it shall be a marriage of convenience, much like the one which had joined his mother and father before she died and then the lucky bastard got to choose.

All too soon, the servants were announcing him ready. He is escorted to the great hall, where he would await his new wife and her family. Victoria is already there, looking radiant, and he smiles at her. He also smiles at his mother, who smiles back, though his father only nods his head. Proud of his son. _Finally_ proud that Robert would be living a normal life. 

The doors open a while after Robert has taken his seat. Enough time for him to become impatient and fidgety. His mother lays a calming hand on his own, and Robert takes some form of comfort in that. When the royal escort of the neighbouring kingdom walks into the hall, Robert is caught between wanting to melt into the seat, and put his eyes on stilts; all the better to see his future with. 

And then…

Oh, then. 

His breath catches. He feels as if something has shifted into place. He feels his mother grip his hand tighter, as if _elated_ that he approves of the look of his wife at least. But it is not her that Robert has eyes for. It is the young man beside her. 

Dressed equally as fine (a brother, then), with brunette hair and a beard, and a confident walk. Robert is caught. The head raises and their eyes meet, and for a moment Robert swears he sees the sea and the sky. The young man halts his movements for but a second, then rights himself and continues to walk. But now, their eyes are caught: Robert’s and the other prince’s.

He does not hear his father greet the family. He does not hear the announcement of the engagement to the princess. He does not even hear her name.

But he thinks he can hear the prince’s heartbeat.

\----

‘You are her brother, are you not?’ Robert asks when they are seated next to each other.

The man nods. ‘Yes. Aaron.’

They nod at each other, and their eyes refuse to move from one another’s faces.

\----

Robert kisses Aaron in the garden, which his window overlooks. It is dark, and they have somehow managed to get away on their own. Aaron does not back away, but instead kisses Robert deeper. 

‘You are to marry my sister tomorrow,’ Aaron says. ‘We can’t do this.’

‘One night of freedom then,’ Robert says. ‘One night to do whatever I please. I wish to spend it with you.’

‘Are you always this charming?’ Aaron says, and he smiles shyly. 

‘Only when it counts.’

And they smile and kiss, and find a secluded spot. They make love, and later, with Aaron in his arms, Robert cries. He cries at the unfairness of it all, because he shouldn’t have to marry someone he doesn’t love. And it is ridiculous, because they’ve just met, but something in Robert feels as if he’s known Aaron for longer than these brief hours. 

‘I am to marry your sister tomorrow,’ he whispers to Aaron, as they lay awake under a canopy of trees. ‘It is a cruel world which brings us together thus, only to rip us apart.’

‘Are you always this dramatic?’ Aaron teases, but his voice wavers with emotion, and Robert can see tears in his eyes. 

‘I want to say it now, because I will never get the chance to again: I love you,’ Robert says. ‘I love you, and for the first and only time in my life, I am saying it to the person I am truly in love with.’

And Aaron does cry then, and he repeats the words, and it is beautiful and tragic all at once. 

****************************************************

**1692**

She kneels.

Her father taught her to kneel; taught her how to fit in, how to pray to a god she didn’t believe in. But Robetta kneels because not to means death. 

The heavy door of the church opens, and in her surprise, she looks over her shoulder. A young man enters, ducks his head at the crucifix, and kneels in the pew opposite her, on the other side of the aisle. Robetta turns her attention back to her hands, clasped at her chin, which is hung in reverence. She can smell rosemary on her fingers, and her heart rate increases. What if the young man can smell the herb on the air? What if he starts to suspect? She dares a look at him, and sees that his eyes are closed and his lips are moving in silent prayer. Maybe not, then.

There’s something about him that intrigues her, and Robetta can’t take her eyes from him. He carries a sadness in the stiffness of his shoulders that has matched hers on several occasions; perhaps even surpasses hers. Is it possible that he too… but he is far too reverent, far too deep into his prayers to be any part of her Pagan lifestyle. He must feel eyes on him, for he looks up and across at her, and she redirects her gaze. She’s got into trouble more than once with her father and brother for being too forward and too bold with her glances.

_‘Glances will not get me pregnant!’ she remembers yelling at her father a fortnight ago._

_‘You are too liberal with them,’ Jack had answered. ‘You don’t know what men can be like.’_

Now, she feels eyes on her, and she looks. The young man has startlingly blue eyes. But they seem familiar to her somehow, as if she has seen them before…

‘It’s uncouth to stare,’ she hissed, loudly enough that he would hear. Not so loud that it would echo around the small church.

To her satisfaction, his cheeks reddened. ‘I—I’m sorry. You just… you look like someone I know.’

‘It’s a small village,’ Robetta says. She hesitates though. ‘I’ve not been here long. Perhaps you know my father? Sugden. He owns the farm.’

‘Yes, that must be it.’ But he seems unsure.

She wants to say more, but she hears the shouting from outside the church. Shouting, laughing, cackling. Witch hunters. They treat it like a sport. She thinks of the sprig of rosemary in her apron at home, and pray that the group don’t have a reason to check there. With her not around, they could easily suspect her younger sister. She shivers.

‘You feel the cold?’ the man says.

She startles at his voice. ‘The men outside,’ she says. ‘They chill me to the bone.’

‘They are doing a duty,’ he says, though again, he sounds unsure. Or as if it is something that he has repeated his whole life because he’s had to. ‘To God and the Bible.’

‘Indeed.’ If this man wants to believe that, then she wants no part in it. She gets up and makes to leave.

‘Wait!’

And she doesn’t know why, but she does. She waits. She watches the man get to his feet. Something about the way he holds himself… she has met him before. There is something in the back of her mind, urging her towards the answer. But it evades her.

‘Let me walk you home,’ he says. ‘The men—’

‘You don’t trust them either?’ she breathes.

He shrugs. ‘I haven’t had reason to. Please, allow me…’

And she nods. Despite the warning words of her father about her getting to know men too well, despite the smell of rosemary on her skin which would probably give her away, she nods and allows the man to walk her home.

\----

Aaron. That was his name. Something about the way he said it, about the way it feels on her tongue and on her lips, is familiar. 

‘The Dingles,’ her father says. She has convinced her brother to ask on her behalf. He is firm in the way he looks at her. _Don’t get into trouble, Robetta_ the look says, but she convinces him nonetheless. 

She knows the Dingle family, everyone does. They are harmless enough, even if they did catch Sam Dingle strangling one of their rabbits a few days ago. She has heard of his mother, Chastity, and if anyone else sees the irony in that (in the way that Chastity smiles at any man that greets her; has opened her legs to every man who gives her a kind word) well, no one acknowledges it. 

Robetta walks through the village. She is weary in a way that she never remembers being in the city she used to live. She had been swallowed by so many crowds in the city though. Here, it seems that everyone knows her and is watching her. She has heard the whispers and the rumours that her step-mother used to dabble in witchcraft. They burned her for it. _‘It’s why I worry about you, Robetta,’ her father said. ‘Because men look at women like you, women who had mothers who were Satanists, and they think you must be one as well.’_ Robetta doesn’t tell him that Satanist is not what she is; that Satanist is a term that people like the hunters – Christians – made up. She does not believe in hell, so she does not believe in Satan. But she has been punished for her unruly mouth before, and she doesn’t care to have her father’s red hand-print across her cheek again.

‘Good evening.’ The voice pulls her up short. It is the sound of footsteps on gravel on a dark and lonely night: cold, menacing, frightening. Gordon Livesy strikes fear into the heart of most of the young girls. He is a hunter, but more than that he is a felon. She looks behind her, over her shoulder but she is alone. Her heart rate quickens. ‘Is it safe for you to be out here alone?’

‘I am not alone,’ she says. ‘God is always with me.’ 

He grins then, and it’s all teeth and gums. She flinches away from him. ‘Yes, I have heard about your belief in God Almighty, and your piousness.’ His nostrils flare and for a moment she thinks that he can smell the rosemary on her again: the rosemary she had used to cleanse her room and to make the space welcoming. ‘Off to the church again? I could walk you there.’

She shakes her head. ‘Thank you, but no. It wouldn’t be proper for me to be seen with a man of an evening.’ If anything, that makes his grin grow wider. She shivers. She wishes for someone, anyone to come along at that moment. Even Cain Dingle with his dangerous eyes, but his chivalrous nature. She hears another pair of footsteps, but doesn’t dare look. She doesn’t want to take her eyes from Gordon Livesy. He is like a spider: she needs to know where he is at all times. But then, his grin wavers and he steps back. She turns around and is startled to see Aaron there. His eyes are furious, and his mouth is a straight line.

It’s strange because Aaron doesn’t say anything, but Gordon Livesy turns and walks away. He doesn’t even glance back at her. And that should terrify her: that she’s in the company of a man who makes someone like _him_ afraid, but instead Robetta feels safe and protected in a way she never thought possible.

‘You’re going to church?’ Aaron asks. Robetta nods. ‘I’ll escort you then.’ 

\----

They don’t get as far as the church. Robetta takes Aaron’s hand and leads him to the small graveyard behind the building. She pulls him down into the soft, slightly damp grass and kisses him. They spend hours together, until the breeze has turned cold, and stars are starting to shine. She can feel his seed inside of her, and she twists her hand, making her fingers go deeper; she is aware of his eyes on her when she comes. They kiss and fall in love under the crescent moon.

\----

Her house is turned upside down when she returns from another rendezvous with Aaron. The door is wide open, and Robetta runs into the house. Her sister is crying, and she kneels to pick her up off the floor. ‘What happened?’ she asks. ‘Where’s father?’

‘They took him!’ she gasps. It is at that moment that yet more authorities walk into the house. They are brandishing the rosemary that Robetta thought she had hid so carefully in her room. What else had they found? What else could possibly incriminate her?

‘We found this on your father’s person,’ they say. Robetta does her best not to let her eyes widen in surprise. ‘What can you tell us about it? About him?’

‘Let me see him,’ she says. ‘Let me see him first.’

And they take Robetta to him, and her father looks old and weary and hurt and tired. ‘Why did you do it?’ she asks.

‘Because I promised your mother I’d protect you,’ he says.

And all this time, Robetta thought her father hated her in some way; that his protective nature was a way of controlling her. She never once thought that all he wanted was to protect her. She shook her head. No, she wouldn’t let him give her life for hers.

When she is alone with the authorities, she tells them all: that it was _her_ rosemary, that her father had no idea what kind of lifestyle she led, that he was a pious man who would be ashamed if he knew. She had hoped that this would be enough to make them lenient, to engage her in a sympathetic smile, and get a vow from her that she’d never again dabble in this ungodly ritual. Instead, they seize her by the arms and lead her to a cell. She sees her father being released and that, at least is some comfort. But she shivers where she sits, alone and afraid.

The door of the town gaol opens, and she expects a prison guard, but instead it’s Aaron.

‘Robetta.’ He stands at the bars, and she crawls to him. Their hands link and she can see the tears in his eyes. ‘What happened?’

‘They discovered what I am,’ she whispered. ‘They found rosemary in my house.’

His eyes widen, and he shakes his head in forceful denial. ‘No matter what, I will get you out,’ he says.

‘Aaron, it’s no use. They will only come after you as well.’

‘Let them! I love you, Robetta.’

Her breath hitches then, and she believes the rushed words which fall from his mouth. She believes that he loves her, and she believes also, that she loves him. ‘And I love you,’ she says. He kisses her knuckles and she smiles shakily.

‘Then let me get you out,’ he pleads. ‘We can start anew, find a home, just the two of us.’

She wants that. Oh, she desires and needs that like her life’s breath. But… ‘I can’t. You’ll be in hiding for years, cut off from your family. I couldn’t do that to you.’

‘You’re the only family I need,’ he says. He kisses her knuckles again. ‘Please. Just let me help you.’

And she stupidly nods and agrees, and he smiles and assures her that his uncle, Cain Dingle, will help him. That once Robetta is free, she and Aaron can escape, can find a carriage which is heading to London, or even to the South West, and live there. Just the two of them. It sounds like a fairy tale. She nods and ushers him away.

‘I’ll return in a few hours,’ he says. ‘Wait for me.’ He kisses her hands again, and his lips linger. She can feel his beard on her palms, and she cups his cheek. Their eyes meet and she smiles at him. 

‘I love you,’ she says.

‘And I love you.’ He rises to his feet. ‘A few hours, no more than that, I promise. I will return for you.’

And she believes him.

So when the door opens again in an hour, she doesn’t hesitate to look hopefully and stand, ready to leave with her love. She doesn’t expect guards to approach her, for them to tie her wrists at her back, for them to lead her to a stake surrounded by dry wood, for them to tie her there. All the while, Robetta screams and cries and pleads. Tears make her eyes sore and her cheeks wet. Frantically, she looks around, but cannot see Aaron.

The wood is lit, and she lets out a blood-curdling, terrified scream. She sees him then. Sees Aaron running to the flame, his face set in such suffering that her tears fall faster for him. She sees her name on his lips, and he tries to run to her, only to be stopped by Cain Dingle. 

She focuses on his eyes as fire and agony engulfs her body, and his name is on her lips—a silent prayer, a silent ask for forgiveness to the one man that she had ever loved.

**** 

**1914 ******

The front door bell rings. Robert lingers on the doorstep, looking through the papers in his hands, in which his previous employer Lawrence White had given him a sparkling reference. That Robert had had to be invited into the man’s bed in exchange for said reference is something which he has pushed to the back of his mind, never to be thought of again.

The door opens, and Robert tips his hat. The doorman had answered, which was just as well: he was applying for the position of butler, and he’d hate for the position to have been filled already.

‘Yes?’ the doorman says.

‘My name is Sugden. I would like to present myself for the job as butler.’

The doorman looks him up and down, and beckons Robert in. Maybe he’s passed the first test then. The kitchen smells glorious. The cook, a round woman with a cheery smile and ruddy cheeks, greets him when the doorman introduces him.

‘You’ve worked as a butler before then?’ she asks, when the doorman goes to check if the master of the house can see him.

Robert nods. ‘Yes, for the Whites.’

‘Oh yes?’ she says sceptically. Maybe here as well, the Whites’ reputation precedes them. Not that the servants of this family can talk. There have been rumours about Gordon Livesy; rumours that are altogether chilling. ‘Bet you have a tale or two to tell?’ she continues.

‘I never talk about my employers,’ he says. He lets his cheeky voice shine through though, and it works wonders, as the woman laughs loudly and waves him off. 

‘Go on, get on with you!’

The footman enters the kitchen again, and beckons Robert. He is led up the stairs and into the house proper. It is a wonderful house. Not as big as the Whites’, but homely and comfortable. There is something about it which makes Robert feel a little paranoid, but it is a small matter. 

‘Has Mr Livesy seen many men about the position of butler since he advertised for it?’ Robert asks.

The doorman takes a moment to sneer at him down the length of his nose, but he answers nonetheless. ‘A few, though not many. He has not yet expressed a wish to hire any of them.’

Robert nods. He needs to make a good first impression then. They come to a stop at an already open door which leads into a parlour room. The footman knocks and introduces Robert. Robert steps over the threshold and whilst it has been his training to immediately meet the eyes of the man who will be his master, his eyes instead are drawn inexplicably to the young man lounging on the sofa. He has dark brown hair, a hint of stubble—unheard of in such houses and company—and very stunning blue eyes. He quirks a smirk at Robert, and Robert feels his knees give way. He has seen that smile before, he’s sure of it…

‘Sugden, is it?’ says Gordon Livesy. He shares the same shape of face as the man on the sofa—his son then?—but that is where the similarities end. His face is harsher, and doesn’t bear any of the friendliness or charm of the younger man. Robert does a short bow.

‘Yes, sir.’

Livesy introduces the young man as Aaron, his son. He also tells Robert that he’s got a wife—not Aaron’s mother, though she is the mother of his young daughter Olivia. When the introductions are made, Livesy sends his son out of the room. Aaron goes obediently, and Robert’s eyes follow him. Why does he seem so familiar?

\---- 

Robert gets the job. Livesy indulges him and tells him that it was nearly a done deal as soon as he walked through the door: the other men who had applied were altogether too old. He wanted someone who could be with the family for years.

He is happy in his work, and he settles into the household well. He gets to know the maid—who happens to be the teenage daughter of the cook. The groundskeepers are husband and step-son to the cook, and the footman is the groundskeeper’s nephew. It was very much a family affair, and at first Robert feels isolated, but the housekeeper family soon welcomes him into their fold.

It is a morning about a week into his service that the bell for Aaron’s room rings. The footman goes, but returns moments later, saying that he wants to see the butler instead. It is not in his duties to see to the young master of the house, but the cook and footman both push him to go.

‘When they say jump, we ask how high,’ the footman says. So Robert jumps.

Aaron is dressed and sitting at his desk when Robert enters the room. 

‘Sir,’ Robert says, and bows.

For some reason, this makes Aaron laugh. ‘Aaron,’ he says. He gets up from his chair and saunters over to Robert. He holds out his hand for Robert to shake, but the butler just looks at it in confusion. Aaron rolls his eyes. ‘This must happen so rarely you don’t know how it’s done,’ he teases. Instead of waiting for Robert to shake his hand, Aaron reaches for it and clasps it in his own. Aaron’s hand is warm and firm. Somehow, feeling it in his own makes flashes of… something run through his mind. A dark night, a graveyard, heated kisses, a fire…

Aaron’s smile drifts, though he doesn’t release Robert’s hand until Robert himself clears his throat. ‘It’s Robert, isn’t it?’ he asks.

‘Yes, sir.’

Aaron quirks an eyebrow. ‘I won’t talk to you unless you call me Aaron,’ he says. There is a definite playful lilt to his voice. Robert smiles.

‘Sorry. Aaron.’

‘That’s better.’ His eyes flicker between Robert’s own, and his lips.

\---- 

They dance around in this fashion for weeks. Every morning, Aaron would ring the bell in his room and when the footman went to answer, he’d demand Robert instead. It got to the point that Robert would respond to the bells instead, which was exactly what Aaron had wanted.

Then one night, when the family had gone to bed early, Aaron’s bell rings again. Robert and the maid are in the kitchen, doing the last of the cleaning and tidying. She smirks at him. ‘There’s the young master again,’ she said.

He can’t help the thrill that runs through him. He had come to look forward to the mornings he spent with Aaron, even though it was only fifteen minutes before Robert had to attend to his other duties. He goes quickly to Aaron’s room, and finds the young man once again sitting at his desk, though he rises to his feet when Robert steps over the threshold.

‘You rang, sir?’

Aaron ignores him until Robert realises his mistake.

‘Sorry. You rang, Aaron?’

The young man smiles. ‘I wish to go for a walk,’ he says. ‘And I’d like you to accompany me.’

They walk around the garden, though it isn’t very big nor is there much to admire in it. But the stars are starting to blink into existence, and it is a warm night; it could be much worse.

‘Tell me more about yourself, Robert,’ Aaron says when they had finished their third turn about the garden.

‘You already know a lot about me,’ Robert answers. ‘I have two siblings, both my parents are dead, my step—’

‘No, no. Tell me about _you_.’

Robert pauses. ‘I don’t understand.’

Aaron chuckles, though it’s more at himself than at Robert. ‘I’m not very good at this,’ he admits quietly. ‘My father thinks that it’s because I don’t get out enough, but the truth is that it’s because I don’t enjoy the company of girls.’ He says it meaningfully enough that Robert knows understands him right away.

‘Oh, I see.’ 

Aaron stops. ‘You’re… ashamed of me?’

‘Not at all!’ Robert hastens to reassure him, and in the process grabs Aaron’s hands. They look down at their joined hands, and then into each other’s eyes. ‘Nothing could be further from the truth.’ Then Aaron smiles, and so does Robert.

\---- 

They kiss that night, under the disbelieving but nonjudgmental stars. Robert can’t get enough of the taste of Aaron. It’s everything that’s new and exciting, but there’s also something familiar as well. Somehow, another night much like this breathes into his mind, though the garden in his thoughts is grander, and the urgency with which they kiss is greater.

He loses track of time in Aaron’s arms, but when he breaks away from the feel of the younger man’s lips, the church clock strikes one. They smile at each other like school boys, share one last innocent kiss, and then by unspoken agreement, Robert escorts Aaron back into the house.

The weeks pass and Aaron and Robert become close. Robert thinks that the young maid may suspect something, but she says nothing and only gives him a knowing smile when Aaron’s bell rings in the mornings.

‘Be careful,’ she urges him one night though, when Aaron’s bell rings after the family have once again gone to bed. ‘There have been stories… about Mr Livesy. Just be careful.’

He doesn’t know what she means, and he has never asked Aaron about it. They have far better things to do when he sneaks into the young master’s bedroom at night.

\---- 

On the radio, there is an announcement: England is at war with Germany.

\----

There is a letter on the doorstep. Not unusual, but this one is addressed to Robert Sugden. Robert serves breakfast, though he does so whilst distracted. Aaron notices, and gives him concerned glances. After, when breakfast is done and cleared away, when Mr Livesy has gone into town with his wife and young daughter, Aaron summons Robert into the parlour room.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asks. ‘You weren’t yourself this morning.’

Robert pulls the letter out of his inside jacket pocket. ‘I apologise. I had a letter delivered to me this morning, and… well, it kept my attention.’

‘A letter? What does it say?’

‘I haven’t opened it yet.’ He does so now. It is an official letter from the government, and Robert feels his legs go cold. He reads and as he does so, his legs give way. He sinks slowly onto the chair.

‘What?’ Aaron is all innocence and wide-eyed concern. ‘Robert?’

‘I’ve been called up for the army,’ he whispers. The look in Aaron’s eyes are reflected in his own: the end.

**** 

**1963**

Chas drops her son off at the elderly residential home at 9am that morning. Aaron sighs and grunts his way through his mother’s speech in which she expresses her disappointment and shame in her son for receiving community service. 

He walks to reception and stands around in the place which smells like mothballs and death. He had broken into a house and, taking into account Aaron’s situation at home, the judge had decided that community service was better than a prison sentence. 

‘You may actually learn something!’ Chas had admonished when he gave her the news.

There is a television in the next room, a common room in which loads of the old folk sit around or shuffle around and wait for their turn to die. The television shows a re-run of a black and white film. Aaron recognises the little black dress and long cigarette holder from when his mother would watch it over and over again. He rolls his eyes.

A receptionist meets him five minutes later, and Aaron explains the situation. She doesn’t look very pleased, but she also notes that they can’t afford to turn down free help. She shows him where to stash his coat, and then shows him around.

\---- 

Aaron spends his first day serving breakfast, moving the old people from one place to the next, and trying to talk to them. He’s out of patience by noon, and can’t wait for his Mum to collect him in two hours.

When she does, he throws himself into the Morris Minor and huffs. ‘I’d have rather gone to prison.’ His Mum chastises him, and doesn’t speak to him the rest of the drive home.

\---- 

Aaron arrives at the same time the next day. Once again he helps with breakfast, but when one of the residents is sick he feels queasy as well. The care assistant tells him to go outside for some fresh air, tells him he’ll get used to it, and he hopes that he doesn’t have to be here long enough to get used to it.

The garden is actually really nice, and Aaron spends a moment to breathe in the fresh air. He tilts his face up to the sky; the warm May sun feels like bliss on his skin.

‘Hello, young man.’

Aaron blinks. He looks around. An old man is sat at a table alone. Aaron nods uncertainly. ‘Alright?’

The old man smiles. His face isn’t as wrinkled as everyone else’s, and he’s managed to keep all of his hair. He looks a little different from the others: as if he shouldn’t be here. Aaron is pretty sure this man can take care of himself. 

‘Come and keep an old man company.’ His Yorkshire accent is noticeable, though not broad. Not at all like Aaron had come to expect from the people in this place, who seem to have a Yorkshire river flowing through their veins rather than blood. Aaron is about to hesitate, but the man pats the seat next to him. ‘A chat? For five minutes?’

Aaron can’t refuse. As uncouth as people think he is, he has been brought up to respect his elders. He struts over to the chair and seats himself in the warm plastic. 

‘I’ve not seen you around before,’ the old man says.

‘No, I—uh, I’m only here for a while.’ He clears his throat. ‘Community service.’

‘Ah.’ The old man’s eyes twinkle and Aaron’s breath catches. He seems familiar. Or at least, his eyes seem familiar. ‘So they see this as a fitting punishment, do they?’

‘I think it’s just to teach me about… like, caring about others and that.’

The man smiles and holds out his hand. ‘I’m Robert,’ he says. ‘Not Bob, though some of the nurses will tell you differently.’

Aaron can’t help but chuckle. ‘Aaron,’ he says. ‘Nice to meet you, sir.’

\---- 

Aaron spends all morning with Robert, and when one of the care assistants come to collect him, the old man begs to let the lad keep him company a while longer. The woman smiles and agrees. It seems no one is immune to the man’s charm.

He finds out that Robert had been a farmer, though he didn’t really want to pursue it. ‘My father insisted, and whatever he said, went.’ He also learned that he didn’t have a family, and was constantly alone. ‘Not that I mind,’ he had said. ‘I prefer my own company anyway.’ And yet he had kept Aaron by his side until Aaron had to leave that afternoon.

‘How was it?’ his Mum asks when he gets into the car.

‘Not too bad,’ he says, and he sees the pleased smile that spreads on her face.

\---- 

Aaron never thought he’d feel comfortable spending so much time with an old man. But Robert was so unlike anyone he had ever met before. Aaron enjoyed his company, and Robert enjoyed his.

‘How long will you be with us, young man?’ he asks. He had taken to calling Aaron “young man” as though it were a nickname.

‘Another week,’ Aaron says. ‘That’s when I have to go back to court for reassessment.’

Robert smiles and leans in. ‘Well, if they ask I will give you a stunning reference!’ They both laugh as though it is the funniest thing they’ve heard.

When Robert talks, Aaron feels as though he is missing out on something; like if he were a few decades older, or Robert a few decades younger… but it’s ridiculous because Robert is old enough to be his grandfather. But when he laughs, and his eyes light up, Aaron feels a shift in his stomach and he feels his heart clench. If it were another lifetime entirely, who knows…

\---- 

Aaron turns up again at 9am. He goes to reception and takes off his coat. It is routine by now to go out into the garden and find Robert sitting there basking in the sun. Aaron had teased him once, asking why he never tanned. Robert had teased right back, saying that the golden skin was lost among the wrinkles.

Today when he goes into the garden, their usual table is empty. He assumes the old man is still asleep, and he plans on ribbing him mercilessly for that. He goes to find one of the assistants, and when she sees him, her face drops.

‘Oh, Aaron, love.’ 

He knows then that something is wrong. Denial seeps into his skull and settles there at the base of it. He knows… of course he knows. But he still doesn’t want to hear the words.

‘Robert passed away last night, love,’ she says. She looks stunned at his tears, moved by his weeping. Aaron can’t stop crying. He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

**** 

**Present**

‘You know why we’re both still here.’

And Aaron did know. He had chased Robert throughout time, lost him in so many different ways. When he saw Robert, and when they realised, he saw that same ache reflected back. 

Those blue-green eyes were focused on him, and he knew that Robert recognised him. He didn’t know how, he didn’t think it was possible. But somehow they recognised each other. There was a pull: a frantic, heartbreaking pull, and it dragged Robert and Aaron together, and kept them together for the first time.

_“…this becoming one instead of two, was the very expression of his ancient need.  
And the reason is that human nature was originally one and we were a whole, and the desire and pursuit of the whole is called love.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Come have a nosy on tumblr!: [Port in a Storm](http://www.portinastorm.tumblr.com)


End file.
